A Game of Shadows
by Azecreth
Summary: Everyone wants to survive, to thrive. In the city of Vale that holds true even more. Forces clash in the darkness and in the light, each seeking the fulfillment of their goals. Would be friends are thrown into conflict as the battles begin, and whoever wins this war of ideas will be the one to shape the future, for better or worse. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, hello there. First time foraying into this fandom, but I got a muse and when you get the muse you just gotta let it out before you lose it. I should apologize beforehand that I don't know how frequently this will be updated, so this could be a bit. This may also get bumped up to M depending on how things go.**

**I will say that I'll probably be drawing on character archetypes from the Batman trilogy for this, though obviously they won't fit exactly. Feel free to guess at what they might be, I will neither confirm nor deny. I will also not be officially endorsing any ships, so read into it as much as you like, but your opinion is your own. And yes, AU's ahoy, which is how I justify the fact that I'm sure this is OOC as hell.**

**RWBY is the property of Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth, or something. Definitely not me.**

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Vale, a cosmopolitan hub of people and culture in the world of Remnant. Here there were politicians, warriors, merchants in this bustling metropolis, a hive of activity as people worked and went about their days in peace and oblivion to the world around them. Architecture indicated the worldly influences that went into building this city, stores and restaurants offered a wide variety of foods and services. Truly, it was not a bad place to live. With skyscrapers that reached into the heavens and great cathedrals to the gods and man's own greatness, Vale was a city many others aspired to be.

But everywhere had it's dark side, and Vale's was larger than most. Poverty ran rampant beneath the shiny exterior. Gangs and mobs existed in uneasy peace with the city divided amongst them, and crossing them was a losing proposition at best. The politics itself was corrupt, with many officials having or beholden to the mobs. If the city looked good, the truth was far more gritty.

It was late, city skyline already illuminated with a multitude of building lights and barely occupied streets with lamps as people settled down from the work day and the nightlife roared. Into this lull of activity stepped a rare breed of criminal. A black unmarked van waited in the parking lot of one of the branches of the biggest bank in the city, the current target of tonight's heist.

The lobby was sparsely populated, a few people making withdrawals or departures under the cover of nightfall, security guards watching everything with a careful eyes, and tellers just wishing they could go home and sleep, or out on the town with their friends. Their boredom was to be most quickly and effectively interrupted.

Outside camera sparked and went dead, images replaced by loops so as to not see what would happen next. Security guards noticed the commotion outside, but their reaction was too late as a cluster of crystals flew through the front door, multiple colors twinkling in the interior lighting of the decently sized lobby before exploding, a wave of air knocking everyone off their feet and then freezing them in place with ice.

Once the crystals had detonated the robbers swung into action, men in black uniforms and masks running through the doors with guns held aloft, shooting any guard that had managed to hold onto his weapon and decided to play hero, and disarming those who didn't. Everyone was covered, and the way cleared for the mastermind of this heist as he stepped through the bank, cane tapping out a rhythmic beat as it impacted on the marble floor.

Roman Torchwick, thief extraordinaire and in a league of his own in this city. Important for how he ran independent of the major mobs, well known for his success rate, reliability, and his loyalty when on a contract. He was also cocky, a bit grandiose, and had a thing for cigars, but it was easy to overlook his faults when you looked at his results.

He looked about as the smoke from his cigar wafted up to the ceiling, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he made his way to the end of the lobby, near the tellers desks and the back. ""Hello there. If you don't mind, I'd like to make a withdrawal," he said to one of the shaking tellers, frozen in place by his arm rather than his feet. "Don't worry, I can handle it myself Just...don't be a hero. I'd hate to have to kill you." His eyes bored into the teller from under his black hat, who nodded in understanding.

He turned then, looking back at the grunts who had restrained everyone else there, frowning at their inactivity. "Well? Get going! We don't have all day," he yelled, gesturing with his cane angrily. That at last prompted some activity, part of the group splitting off to head in back to the bank vault, himself following to oversee the whole process.

The vault wasn't so complicated, definitely not as much as the one at the main branch or the Vale Reserves. All it took was some Dust to burn through the lock mechanism, door easily swinging aside afterwards. Roman stepped intro the vault first, scanning the haul he was about to make. "Alright, take everything. And be quick about it."

The grunts went to work, stashing lien into brown bags from shelf after shelf, until the bags were full and the vault was empty. They proceeded out, leaving the bare room behind and returning to the lobby to meet up with those left behind to guard, now to make their escape from this successful heist.

As they ran out the door, Roman walked back up to the teller from before, removing his cigar from where it had been so well placed for manipulation, and ground it into the ashtray on the counter, leaving it there with lingering wisps of smoke rising in the air.

"Give my regards to Detective Schnee," he said with a cocky grin. His cane clacked on the floor as he made his way back to the doors from there. He tipped his hat, and he was gone.

Outside the grunts were busy loading up the bags of lien into the back of the truck, some moving off to other getaway vehicles to take police on wild goose chases across the city while the real van returned to the rendezvous point unmolested. And with a few greased palms in the Police Department, it generally worked, though a few were lost once in a while.

He walked up to the drivers side of the van, rapping on the door with his cane. "We're ready to go," he called up to the driver, who had his mask pulled low and sat stiff in his seat.

"Got it boss," came the reply, and Roman nodded to himself as he walked back to the side door of the van, reaching for a cigar in the while.

Still, there was something off, his instincts flaring in this situation, and he wasn't sure why until the cigar touched his lips and he lit it, the click of the lighter like his mind clicking facts into place. It wasn't the bank itself, but the driver. He was a different height than Torchwick remembered, hair different as well. And how they spoke...

His face nearly drained color as it hit him and at the same time the engine started, and he swiftly moved back up front, smashing through the drivers side window with his cane in a crash of glass that fell on both of them, quickly grabbing for the drivers arm as they sprang back in their seat, foot inches from the acceleration.

"Nice try," he said angrily, ripping open the door and tossing the driver out despite their struggles, though admittedly their movement was limited by the lack of space. "No one steals from Roman Torchwick."

To his credit, the driver landed well, a quick roll bringing him back to his feet, and Roman forced to bring his attention back by the sound of shifting clicking, and interlocking parts, to find himself faced with a giant red...scythe? On the one hand, he was impressed, since that was definitely not something you saw every day. On the other, he didn't appreciate being threatened.

Cane held in one hand and pointed towards that giant scythe thing, he was further taken aback, eyes widening slightly as he saw that not only was his heist about to be stolen by a girl, but one he knew at that. "You... you're that pickpocket from yesterday," he exclaimed.

_It was mid day, the streets and sidewalks crowded as people went about their business. It was easy to move unnoticed amongst those, and that was what Roman did, scouting out the location of the next heist he would pull. He was noting locations of guards, cameras, escape routes and roads, traffic lights, everything he would need to pull this heist off._

_It was in this process, amidst the crush of people, that the hair on the back of his neck rose, and he noticed someone passing too close for comfort, hand darting out to catch theirs as they tried to withdraw with some good from his pocket in their pass by. He applied pressure then, enough to hurt but not break or sprain it. _

"_Nice try," he commented casually, the pickpocket issuing a whine of pain before running off and vanishing in the crowd as soon as she was released, though not before he got a glimpse at her face, how haggard it was. Roman dismissed it and moved on. He had better things to do._

And now, she was here. The gas mask was gone, revealing a grimy face with somewhat sunken, yet hard, eyes glaring at him from behind the red blade of the scythe. She wore the clothes of the grunts he had brought with him, yet beneath he could see shades of red, most likely the threadbare hoodie he had seen her wearing that looked like it was about to fall apart.

"Guilty as charged," she replied. "Now step aside. I need that lien and you're in my way."

Roman snorted, letting out a puff of smoke. "Forget it kid," he replied with that calm cockiness he had so much of. "You're in over your head. Besides, how'd it look if I let my heist get stolen?" He was not about to let himself get embarrassed like that.

The sound of the police siren proved a welcome distraction, both directing their gaze towards where it came from. It looked like that teller had hit the panic button after all. Roman was the first to act, Dust crystal flying out to shatter on the ground, though the girl was able to roll away from it. Still, her foot was caught in the explosion, and Roman used the opportunity to return to the van, jumping on the side door, and motioned for the driver to go as the girl used the scythe to shatter the ice.

As the van started to pull away, Roman looked back at the girl, who was staring forlornly at the van, practically swaying on her feet with the scythe limp in her hands. And he felt something stirring. He wouldn't call it his conscience but something else. Perhaps it was respect for the guts she had had to try and steal his heist from out under his nose, the suffering she'd been through that had made her want to risk it, the calling of a kindred spirit. Himself, he'd just say that it was tying up a loose end to make sure she didn't show up again later.

"Hey kid," he called from the side door of the van. "You coming or what? You'll only get this kind of opportunity once."

He grinned as her eyes practically lit up with a life he hadn't seen in them before, scythe folding away as she put on a burst of speed, catching up to the van and hopping in next to him as they drove into town, police not far behind. "Welcome to the show Red," he said, assigning her a name to use though it most assuredly wasn't her real name. "I got a feeling we're going to do great things, you and I."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Another chapter ahoy. Time to introduce more characters and further weave the tapestry that this will take place on. Thanks to those who followed/faved this story. I hope to impress, or at the very least, make for an enjoyable experience.**

**As before, this is AU, so be forewarned that people will be different, though as close as I can make them given the circumstances.**

**RWBY is owned by Mounty Oum and Rooster Teeth. And a good thing too, since I sure as hell couldn't do it.**

* * *

"Agh! That...that...that...He's taunting me!"

A half used cigar in hand, Weiss spun about, stalking over to the befuddled Jaune, who backed away from hands raised protectively against the angry detective. Fortunately for him, Officer Cardin stepped in, intercepting her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"He probably does it cause he knows you'll react that way," Cardin replied, trying to hold back a smirk. Which was probably a good idea for him as Weiss swatted his hand away, a freezing glare turned against him.

"Don't touch me," she growled, before stalking off to see how the other evidence teams were doing, leaving her interview with the bank teller behind. And woe to any who got in her way.

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief, joining Cardin as they watched the seeming vision of anger incarnate move away from them. "Man, she really doesn't like this Torchwick guy, does she," he commented, scratching at his head. "What did he ever do to her?"

Cardin nodded, arms folded as he watched the backside of the detectives police uniform – custom tailored to be in white instead of regulation colors – depart. He leaned over, voice dropping somewhat. "Torchwick's her first real assignment on the force that's actually important. Word has it that her pop didn't want her joining the force, and other rumors have it that her connections as the daughter of the owner of the Schnee Dust Company are what got her this position in the department. So she's got quite a lot of expectation riding in her shoulders."

He paused, breaking into a bit of a grin. "Still, you gotta give it to the guy. For being a criminal, he's got style." He glanced over at Jaune. "You're new to this, but you get used to it. When 'The Princess' goes off, you don't want to be in the way."

His explanation was cut short as an angry voice rang out in the lobby once again. "Officer Cardin, Jaune. I hope whatever you're doing is related to finding Roman Torchwick and throwing him in the strongest cell in Vale. Otherwise you're wasting your time and mine, and I won't have that."

Cardin snapped to attention, in a much smoother manner than Jaune. "Yes Ma'am," he replied with the barest hint of sarcasm, though serious enough to satisfy Weiss. He elbowed Jaune once her back was turned. "Come on Jauney-boy, She does our performance reviews and I want to get paid this week."

As they got to work Weiss gave them a hard stare before turning away, shoes clicking on marble while her hand drifted to the comforting presence of Myrtenaster on her hip. More than just a weapon, though it certainly was that, it was one of the few constants in her life. Sharp, deadly, yet also elegant in use, it was a symbol of what she wanted to be. The blade complimented her, long white hair, pale skin, the kind of beauty that would turn eyes, but a personality that would leave you nursing wounded pride at the end of the attempt

Perhaps it was a childish dream that had brought her here, her mind flashing back to a memory of a younger self that eagerly proclaimed that she would catch all the bad guys to her father after hearing of a robbery made against their company, something which was responded to with a snort of amused derision and the statement that such things were better left to the proper authorities, and not the attention of a lady such as herself.

Despite the best efforts of her parents, with some varying degrees of success, she had enrolled in the police academy when she was able to, establishing herself as a talented officer and working hard to eliminate the doubts and hardship she was given as a result of her background. And now she was here, her first real assignment, leading the hunt for Roman Torchwick. And she would be damned if she was defeated by some lowlife thug.

She headed out into the parking lot, where spotty security camera footage had seen some kind of altercation take place, though sadly the video wasn't the highest quality. But it had shown someone get pulled from the main getaway van, a confrontation, and then to her surprise, the two facing off (One of whom had to be Torchwick) getting in the van together.

They had gone over the tape a lot, trying to pick out faces, but the video was just too low quality. No one could figure out what it meant either, though some theories were proposed. In the parking lot now, Weiss looked about the scene, at investigators going over marks on the ground, little numbered place markers put down, and she could already tell there was nothing useful here

Back to the vault then, where technicians were looking over the heist. "Have you found anything yet," she asked, impatience in her tone. They needed a break, a lead, something that could clue them in on Torchwick and close the net on him that much more. As it stood, he had his way across the entire city, and that would not stand.

But her expectations were less than fulfilled. "Not yet Detective," came the response. She growled under her breath, as if sheer force of will could magic evidence into existence. After several robberies and failed attempts to get anything of use, it was small wonder that her temper was flaring up. She would be having a long, hard talk with a punching bag once she was done with paperwork.

And as if her day couldn't get any better, a call came in over her earpiece. Already guessing who it was, she stepped away from everyone else before. "Hello Father," she said, voice falling into cold formality.

The tone was much the same on the other side of the line. "Hello Weiss."

She skipped the formalities and went straight into the purpose for this call. "Was there a reason you called? I thought I had made it clear that you should not contact me while I was at work."

He ignored that though, proceeding in control of the conversation. "I heard that Torchwick character you are looking for has robbed another bank. I trust you are doing your utmost to bring him to swift justice."

"Yes father," she replied, a tint of exasperation that she tried to keep out of her voice whenever she talked to her father. She had resigned herself to all these conversations being him talking and her listening, until she was able to cut him off and end it, so she could go on to better uses for her time.

"I don't suppose I need to tell you that the family's honor is riding on your success. Do not make me regret my decision to allow you to enter law enforcement."

Weiss sighed, arms folded and glancing up at the bland peach colored ceiling. "Yes father. Now if you will excuse me, I need to return to work."

She took the only satisfaction she could in this situation, ending the call before her father could, and it was a hollow feeling at best. Holding back the urge to punch the wall, she spun about on her heels and returned to the bank vault, radiating frustration and aware that most, if not everyone, there could guess what that call had been about, but frankly she didn't care at this point. Let them think what they wanted. When she caught Torchwick they would be forced to recognize her as a deserved equal.

Fortunately, there was a glimmer of light in the mess that was this day. "Detective, I think I have something."

Weiss rapidly moved over to join the technician, crouching to look at a small clump of red particles caught near the door. "Dust," she said matter of factly.

The man nodded. "Yes. But not just any Dust. This is high quality. High purity. Not even Torchwick is stupid enough to risk blowing himself up during a heist with low quality Dust. But judging by this sample, it could only have come from a few places.

"I see," Weiss replied. She could already guess where most of those places where, seeing as her fathers company was the premier Dust manufacturer on the market. It just depended on whether it had been bought or stolen. At the very least it was a lead to go on.

"Alright then. Keep looking for any other pieces of evidence we can use. I'll go follow up on the Dust connection. I am probably the most qualified for it," she said as she rose back to her feet, looking around at everyone else there and making sure they heard her. Perhaps it was presumptuous, but from her perspective it was also a matter of fact. If there was one other person in the room who knew more about Dust than her, she would be surprised.

Head high, she left them to their work, confident that they would do it to the best of their abilities. Admittedly, she became less certain of that as this investigation went on, but for now she was willing to place her trust in them. She had no other choice.

Back through the lobby she walked, and she gestured at Cardin and Jaune with a wave of her hand. "Come on. I'm following a lead, and whatever plans you may have had can wait. Catching Torchwick is more important.'

"Aw man," Jaune grumbled, falling in after her reluctantly, not looking forward to having to spend more time with the cranky (in his opinion) detective.

Cardin wasn't too thrilled either, but he did a better job at hiding it, patting Jaune on the shoulder as they followed Weiss out to the patrol cars parked outside. "Hey, don't sweat it buddy. At least we get overtime for this. I'll buy you a drink later."

"A-alright," Jaune replied, getting in the squad car with his partner, and the two of them following Weiss as she pulled out and drove towards the first stop she had in mind, with some obvious restraint towards speed limits. She had even the barest thread of a lead now, and she was determined to not let it slip away. Roman Torchwick's days were numbered.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, time for another intro. There will probably be one more, and then we'll move onto the story and action stuff that I know you're looking forward to. Thanks to those who followed/faved, feel free to drop a review if you feel so inclined, because feedback would be nice.  
**

**RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth and Mounty Oum.**

* * *

The silence of the early morning (Well, silence beyond the chainsaw snores), was shattered by an earsplitting alarm that filled the small apartment, aimed at the lone occupant of the room. Said occupant was currently curled up in bed, a mess of tangled bedsheets, yellow hair and clothes, caught in the throes of tired exhaustion, and none too pleased to be woken up in this manner. Blankets moved as the occupant shifted into a position from which her clenched fist could slam down on the desk beside her bed, seeking the source of her irritation.

Sadly, this was ineffective, for the main reason that the blaring scroll was not on the desk but rather in her dresser across the room, a contingency prepared so she wouldn't smash it and go back to sleep like she had with five alarm clocks before now. At some point it had just become not worth it to buy new clocks, and so this method was used instead.

And as crude as it was, it was effective as well. The discontent form rose from the bed, brushing hair out of her eyes. Yang Xiao Long was not a morning person, and it was an extreme effort of will to rise from the bed and walk over to the dresser so she could turn off the alarm, yawning and stretching the while.

From there it was a quick trip to the shower, the downpour of warm water some small substitute for the rest she could no longer have. From there she emerged ready to take on the day, hair meticulously groomed and otherwise freshened up form her night activities. She couldn't help wincing a tad, working her left shoulder until the pain subdued to a dull ache instead. Now that, she could live with.

Pain, both the feeling of it and how to manage it, Yang was used to. In her dual occupations, it was something of a necessity, the consequences of both tending to linger on. After a quick breakfast it was off to work, navigating amongst the busy streets of morning Vale to the gym where she worked. It was pretty popular, and the job was well paying. Better still, it had flexible hours.

"Hey Yang," came the greetings from the regulars as she entered the gym, as well as the inevitable looks that she brushed away, proceeding into a locker room to stash her gear away before getting to work.

"So, what's on my schedule today Sun," she asked, stretching her arms and legs, muscles rippling under careful contortions. She had moved from the locker room over to the back of the gym, where the administration work went on, and now stood leaning against the white metal door frame.

Beside her was Sun, a Faunus and one of the other trainers there. He was currently switching between handstands and balancing on a single feet, ready for the morning, or so it seemed. With his carefree attitude and natural flexibility, he was a good fit for this job

"Just the usual,"Sun replied as he flipped through a clipboard he held loosely. It seemed something had piqued his interest though as he stopped for a few seconds, before glancing up at Yang and resuming his movement. "Ooh, someone's special. Looks like management has you lined up for an exclusive workout session."

"Really?" That wasn't something she did often, so whoever it was must be relatively important, or rich. She clenched a gloved fist, working each digit in brown leather with a flexed arm, attention divided between that and Sun. "Who's it with?"

"Some guy named...Ozpin, I think," Sun replied, throwing the clip board off to the side.

Yang turned to the name, thinking. She felt like she had heard that name before, but she couldn't place it. Eventually she shrugged and pushed it to the side. She would find out soon enough. The gym was filling up with people, and the time for the first classes and groups they both led was fast approaching.

She fixed a grin as she pushed away form the door, hands on her hips. "Looks like it's time to get to work. You ready Sun?"

"Of course I am," Sun replied confidently. "This is what I look forward to every day."

"You sure it's that and not all the ladies that you do 'flexibility' exercises with," Yang asked, shooting a knowing wink at Sun, who feigned ignorance.

"Hey, Zumba is a real workout. And like you can talk," Sun shot back with a grin as he walked off.

Yang snorted and walked off in a different direction to do her own work. She was more a personal trainer, though she did do some group workouts as well. Weight lifting, kickboxing, stamina training, that sort of thing. She was definitely more physical, preferring to feel the solid weight of a punching bag against her gloved fists. There was something eminently satisfying about it, only matched by her late night hobby.

The day went by fast, and before she knew it it was time for the session that had been arranged for her by the manager. She had used a towel to clean herself off some, and was now waiting in one of the side gyms for the client to arrive. She had many expectations, but none of them included the unassuming man that came in on a wheelchair, cane sitting across his lap, and escorted by a tall, attentive, blond woman with glasses, by Yang's guess a co worker or assistant of some kind.

"Thank you Glynda, that will be all for now," Ozpin said, glancing up at the older woman before placing the cane on the ground and rising from his wheelchair, awkward in his motions, and a hint of pain flashing behind glasses as he stood before Yang.

"Ms. Long, it's a pleasure,' he said, extending a hand. "I've heard nothing but good things about you."

Yang grinned, taking the hand and giving it a strong shake. "I hope you haven't been listening to Sun. I'd like to think I'm a bit more capable than that."

She received a slight uptick at the edge of Ozpin's neutral expression, letting go and stepping back as Glynda exited the room. "You came recommended, and I find myself in need of someone to help along my recovery. My previous trainer is...no longer acceptable."

That earned a nod as Yang stepped back, leaning against the railing that was positioned in front of the full body mirror. "I feel like I've heard your name before, but I just can't think of where..."

For some reason that brought yet a wider semblance of a grin from Ozpin, who leaned against his cane. "Political adviser to the mayor," he said succinctly, noting Yang's surprised look. "Don't worry. You're not the first person to make that mistake Ms Long. My work is more behind the scenes than anything."

That elicited a sigh of relief, one bullet dodged. "Is it just leg exercises then, or is there more you need?"

Ozpin nodded. "Just the leg for now."

"Well then, let's get started," Yang replied, doing a small fist pump, and words were quickly turned into action as they got to work, some simple leg exercises as she got a feel for how bad this injury of his was. Let it never be said that she didn't know how this sort of thing went. But for now, to focus on her client. There was a lot ahead for both of them in this recovery of his.

* * *

Darkness had fallen on the city once again, and a masked figure stood a silent vigil on the rooftops, black clothe mixed and contrasting with bright yellow hair. The night had come and now it was time for Yang's other occupation, one she even preferred to her day job.

She moved then in response to chatter from the radio she had linked into the police network, all delivered to her by earpiece. She jumped off the rooftop, moving in smooth, practiced motions as she raised an arm to fire a hook that embedded itself in concrete, the rope pulling taunt to allow her to swing ahead. It was either this or the motorcycle, and this would attract less attention, which was what she had in mind.

She wasn't quite sure how she had gotten into the masked vigilante business. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush, the knowledge that she was helping the city, perhaps even just the costume and equipment (Okay, that was definitely part of it). With how utterly ineffective the police were, drastic measures needed to be taken. And she would take them, so others didn't have to.

Faster she moved, running across rooftops and using her grapple gauntlets to bridge the gap, heading towards a warehouse near the harbor district. She was ready for a fight, and hopefully she would get a good one. Soon she arrived, taking up a place on a rooftop overlooking her destination.

From her perch she scanned the scene below, questing to pick out identities and useful information. There was significant movement down below, indicating that they were either receiving a shipment of some kind of shipment or preparing for an exodus, if the movement of large metal containers with the Schnee label was any sign. It was this movement that had drawn police attention, though they weren't going to investigate it.

Her gaze sharpened and eyes narrowed as she picked out an insignia amidst the bustle of activity. It was a red animal head with slash marks, the symbol of the White Fang. They were a criminal gang that had been rising in power in recent years, who's main support base was the Faunus population of Vale. She had clashed with them a few times, and thus far they hadn't impressed her, despite their apparent vendetta with the Schnee's over business practice or labor policies or something.

In her head, she planned out avenues of attack, what to do next, if she should get involved in this situation. After all, there were a lot of guys with guns down there, enough that she wouldn't be able to take them all down, and shouldn't Schnee Company private security be handling this anyway? High chance of getting injured, low chance of catching them all, even lower chance of getting someone important, not to even mention the chance of getting a conviction out of it...

she nearly punched herself, breaking out into an anticipatory grin. Why the hell was she arguing with herself about getting into a fight with some lowlife thugs? Legality and politics were things for others to be concerned with. Her job was to take down these baddies. As long as she disrupted this thing, the city would be that much better off for it.

With her mind made up, Yang sprang into vibrant action, though she found herself having to give up flashy theatrics in exchange for not immediately getting shot at. Dust propelled darts smashed glass and lights flickered out one after the other as she moved, vaulting from the roof down to the lanes of metal containers below. Some darts took down other guards, their guns clattering to the ground as they collapsed, and she moved on past them with no issue.

That didn't last though as she came to an intersection, the guards there surprisingly more alert. She leapt into action then, swiftly jumping into the clearing with fists flying, Ember Celicas working to good effect as the gauntlets slammed home. Metal slammed against clothed flesh, and fired at the same time to send the faunus flying through the air before he slammed into a metal container, denting it in the process.

"It's the Bee! Get her," came the cry from the gang members, picked up and carried along the line so everyone knew she was there once the element of surprise had been blown away.

"It's the Yellow Phoenix," she yelled back, emphasizing that with a kick to some poor fool's face. That was her hero name, and she wasn't sure, nor pleased, about the 'Bee' thing going around. Most likely it was some mobster trying to mock her, and now it was infuriatingly getting to be more popular than the name she used herself.

Flames wreathed Ember Celica as she fired off shot after shot, using the momentum from that to fuel her attacks and her dodging, not to mention her anger at the use of the hated name. She was a raging fire, cutting a swathe through those who stood in her way, and getting naught but scratches and bruises in return. It was almost enough to make her feel bad for these guys, how lopsided this fight was.

Fiery uppercuts, momentum fueled kicks and leaps, the feel of bullets whizzing past in the air, all were a feed to her adrenaline high as she made her way over to the shipping containers. At some point the Fang wised up and cut their losses, and she met less and less until she arrived, securing the stolen shipment for the authorities.

It seemed her scuffle had attracted the police though, and her head turned as she heard the sound of sirens approaching. This was her time to cut and run, lest they shoot at her too, and she made her way with quick vaults up to the rooftops to resume her vigil, wincing from the pain of a blow to her side. All in a night's work, but the night wasn't over yet.

When the police arrived, they would find several unconscious faunus, carrying weapons and some with gang paraphernalia, as well as several shipping containers of dust and other illegal contraband. Another success for the Yellow Phoenix


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: The last of the introductory chapters for now, then we can get back to the main action. You probably guessed who this is, and though I was tempted, I decided to not make her a thief. That would be too easy, and I'm all about upsetting expectations. No combat this time, but we need a bit of a breather. It's also shorter, but maybe I'm just being lazy. **

**Thanks to those who reviewed/faved/followed. Keep on doing so. It gives me encouragement.**

**Yup, still don't own this or Rooster teeth. Sad day.**

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Yes, Vale was a glittering metropolis, beneath which rested a deep inset darkness. There were those who supported it, and those who fought it, and those who tried to eke out a living amidst the clash between light and dark. Some took advantage of the struggle, and used it to further their own prosperity.

Two of those people, Faunus really, were Blake Belladonna and Adam Taurus. They'd grown up together on the streets, working together to survive in the hard world of the poor. Originally thieves by necessity, they had eventually gone into some quasi-respectable profession when older, rather than face the continued danger that being a robber put you in. And that was bounty hunting. It still provided the action, and it wasn't all that well liked by law enforcement or average people, but it paid the bills and they could afford to not sleep on the street.

The two of them made quite a team, cooperation finely tuned to take down wanted fugitives so they could collect the reward money. Admittedly said fugitives might not stay in jail long, but that wasn't their problem. It was almost a renewable resource, when these criminals needed to be captured again. Sure, it wasn't a very satisfying feeling, but on the other hand it was nice to have a full stomach.

Right now the two of them were on stake out, Adam in a rented apartment across the street from their target, while Blake covered the ground exit as a relatively unnoticeable part of the crowd.

"Any movement," Blake asked, tapping her earpiece which connected her through a heavily encrypted channel to her partner.

"Nope," replied Adam, looking from his room to the target's as nonchalantly as he could make it seem, even using the reflections in mirrors to avoid looking directly at the room. "For a wanted fugitive, this guy's pretty nonchalant."

Blake nodded out of sight as she walked along, cat ears hid neatly in a black bow and tail long since gone. "He thinks he's untouchable."

She could just imagine the smirk Adam had on his face right now. "They always thinks that. And fortunately, they never suspect us."

"It wouldn't stop you if they did."

Adam snorted. "It hasn't. Several times. What's one more?"

"The fact that we end up having to pay for property damage."

And now she could imagine him frowning in distaste, remembering the last time they had had to do that, when an apartment store got trashed. He did sometimes let his strength get away from him, and neither of them liked wasting money like that. He was working on that though.

Cutting off the idle chit chat, Blake stopped in front of the hotel, unmoving like a rock with crowds of people flowing around her, highlighting her black clothes. "I'll go get him then."

Above, Adam nodded as he looked over at his sword, ready to intervene if their target put up too much of a struggle. He expected Blake would do fine, but better safe than sorry.

Inside the hotel Blake went, ignoring the looks she received as she moved through the lobby. This hotel was relatively well known, which made it all the stranger that the person they were looking for would be here, rather than in some place where it would be easier to hide his name. He might have thought he was safe from the police, but he wasn't safe from her.

Onto the elevator then and up to the twelfth floor where his room was. She noted the location of the stairwells, giving each a look with the knowledge that her memory and the plans were correct, before continuing to the middle of the hallway. She instinctively moved to pull Gambol Shroud from its concealment, black weapon familiar in her grasp.

The door had a key card lock, and it wasn't too hard to hack, a few buttons on her scroll when it was pushed against the lock itself allowing her to get in. Hand poised on the door, she took a few calming breaths before swinging it open, and ducking back. This one must not be the fighting type though as she was not greeted with any sort of projectiles, or heavily armed men just beyond. Instead, she slowly entered with Gambol Shroud at the ready, with Adam ready as well on the other side.

Inside, she found her target sitting on the couch, watching tv. He glanced over at her, black hair cascading down with feet kicked up. "Finally, took you long enough," he said without looking.

Blake had to struggle to keep an eyebrow from twitching in irritation. "Rutherford B. Cornelius, I assume?"

Cornelius turned off the tv, rose from his seat, and bowed. "That would be me. I assume you're here to take me in then?"

Blake nodded, stepping up to his, carefully, to place handcuffs on his wrists. "Let's go then," she said, gesturing out the door. Cornelius nodded and followed by her side, Blake still not trusting him and ready to use Gambol Shroud.

"No fighting back this time," asked Adam, almost sounding disappointed that he wouldn't get the chance to rough it up. "And here I thought he'd make it difficult for us."

Cornelius spoke as they entered the elevator, as if reading their minds. "Nice hotel. That's why I didn't want a fight. I stay here a lot, so I don't need a fight wrecking it. And I don't need 'resisting arrest' added to the amount I have to pay for bail."

Blake cocked an eyebrow as the elevator descended to the lobby. "Why not turn yourself in then?"

Cornelius shrugged. "Not worth the effort. They're useless anyway, so why give them the satisfaction of having me deliver myself to them?"

Blake let the conversation lapse, though she found herself agreeing with the man on the state of Vale City Police. There were a few good people in there, but otherwise I was ineffectual at best and downright counterproductive at worst. At least she knew that bounty hunters got results, even if they didn't stick.

Arriving in front, past the crowds gawking at the pair, she found Adam waiting in their black Convertible, wearing sunglasses. The two of them got in back, and Adam drove off through the busy streets of Vale. He didn't exactly pay strict attention to the speed limit o red lights, but he generally did enough to avoid getting pulled over. For al lthe frustration that involved capturing actual criminals, the traffic cops were very much effective. As for Adam's driving, the less said the better, though Blake was a lot more at ease with it than Cornelius, who's skin must have lightened several shades along the way, until at last they arrived at a nearby police station.

When they arrived Adam skipped the door, practically vaulting out of the car to land on the ground red and black stylish with the shades, a sword sheath at his waist. Blake was more refined about it, stepping out and opening the door for Cornelius in turn, a tad more relaxed now that they were in a reasonably safe location. But not completely, because she knew an attack could occur even here, and if there was one thing she wanted to keep doing, it was surviving.

They walked in together, drawing a lot of eyes with Adam's aloof self-assuredness, Blake's cold aloofness, and Cornelius in handcuffs. Adam marched them to the sergeant at the desk, gesturing between Cornelius, who waved, and the wanted poster that bore his image. "One fugitive, here for drop off," he said.

The sergeants gaze traveled between the prisoner, the bounty hunters, and the wanted poster. he sighed. "Let me contact the Captain." He picked up the phone and did just that, leaving them to wait for him to arrive.

The Captain showed up a few minutes later, looking none too pleased to see them but showing up regardless. "Bounty hunters,' he grumbled, a sentiment that they were used to. Something about taking the law into their own hands. At least that was what they were led to believe. Blake was sure there was more too it, but that didn't stop either her nor Adam from doing it.

Adam ignored that and stepped forward. "Bounty hunters Adam Taurus and Blake Beladonna, here to turn in Rutherford B Cornelius and collect the reward money."

The Captain sighed, conflicted on what to do before giving in. "Alright. You two, take this man to be booked. We'll see if he's who they claim he is."

Two policemen came up and took Cornelius from the bounty hunters, leading him of into the station to verify his identity and throw him in a cell to wait for trial if he turned out to really be. Meanwhile, the Captain returned his attention to Blake and Adam. "I assume you have an account number for us."

Adam nodded, handing over a slip of paper for one of their dummy accounts. If they did actually get paid they could move it to some of their real ones later. If they didn't then they could sue, and if Vale police tried a sting operation, they wouldn't find anything the duo didn't want them to.

"Thank you," said the Captain as he handed it off to someone else. "Expect your money once we determine that this really is Cornelius."

"Of course. I'd expect nothing less." Adam motioned to Blake, and both turned to leave now that they had done what they came to do. "We'l be back in an hour, just to make sure. We have a reputation to uphold after all."

Blake could feel the daggers in her back from the Captain's glare, the man not looking forward to their return, doubtlessly because he didn't enjoy their presence and also because they would force him to make sue they got paid merely by their presence, rather than it being stuck in bureaucracy. "Of course. I hope we have reuslts by then."

Adam glanced back with a smirk, letting the Captain have the last word as he left the station, and Blake followed alongside. "So Blake, I hear a new stir fry place opened up a couple blocks from here. Wan to check it out? I always get hungry on stakeouts."

Blake let slip a small grin. "You always get hungry period."

Adam, on the other hand, had a significantly wider grin. "So that's a yes, I take it."

Blake nodded. "As long as you're buying."

That elicited a chuckle. "When don't I ever," Adam asked as the two of them walked off, enjoying each other's company after a job well done.


End file.
